Half
by Chibi-Ra-Chan
Summary: Even though Yao seemingly gave Yong Soo everything he wanted, his body, his desire, his wanton attention, he never gave his brother the one thing he wanted most of all; his love.


_H__a__l__f_

By: Chibi Ra Chan

Pairing: Korea x China

Rating: T, for non-explicit sexual content.

Last edited on: August 6th, 2010

_"My self worth measured in text-back tempo, it's been two days eight minutes too slow_

_There may well be others but I still like to pretend that I'm the one you really want to grow old with._

_Got a scheduale to stick to, got a world to keep sweet, you're so much to everyone all the time._

_Will you ever slow down, will I ever come first?_

_The universe contracts to sigh."_

**_Imogen Heap, 'Half Life'_**

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Korea loved his brother more than anything.

There was never a moment that he bothered to question it; he had loved his eldest brother from the moment he set eyes on him. Even in his first days of existence, he had known this fact very clearly.

It was something deeply imbedded in Yong Soo, something purely instinctual. Similar to his identity as a nation, it was something that could not really be explained. It just was.

He'd do anything for China, which is why he kept letting this happen.

Even though he was taller and probably physically stronger, he allowed himself to be roughly pushed against his own living room wall. He let Yao tug on his hair to bring him down to his level and he forced himself to keep his hands at his sides lest he do something drastic. Wither drastic meant pulling his brother even closer or harshly shoving him away, he didn't know.

There was no speaking, there never was. There was only the feeling of lips roughly on lips, pushing, moving, slanting, trembling. Korea's knees threatened to give out on him when Yao fixed his gaze on him, not letting his attention be captured by anything but him.

Lips and tongues danced together, battling for the edge in this sensual game, one that Korea knew he wouldn't win. Not when aniki was like this.

Despite popular opinion, Korea was not stupid.

He understood that while his heart beat franticly with each kiss, nip, and lave, this was just a means to an end for his beloved brother. There was little to no affection in his touch and caress, there was no tremble of the heart, nor was there feathery words of love.

Yong Soo's lips found China's neck and trailed down, nibbling on the taunt skin, leaving a trail of salvia in his wake. He loved the sounds his brother made, they were music to his ears. A symphony of moans, a crescendo of whimpered cries. It warmed his heart to know that he was the one who coerced those beautiful noises to come out of his mouth.

China's hands are making quick work of removing his hanbok, throwing it impatiently on the floor. Yong Soo nearly hissed when cold hands met the heated flesh of his chest. This only made Yao smirk as he countiued his deliberately pleasurable torture.

Torture didn't cover half of it.

It was always like this, one minute he'd be alone at his home signing papers, or watching his beloved dramas and the next, China was there.

It was the only time he visited him, no matter how much he begged his aniki to come to his home, to spend the day with him, or any of a million other excuses to be in his beloved's presence, it was all in vain.

It killed Korea a little inside each time he realized that no matter how many times it happened, no matter how many times he willingly gave himself, his heart, his body, his soul, to China, it made no difference. He was not the one he really wanted to be with.

But he was the only one who would have him at his worst. When things came crashing down on his brother, Korea was the one who came to his aid. Wither it be national crisis's or Kiku saying something particularly mean, or even because he just didn't want to be alone, It was Korea who let him in, who reassured him that he was loved, that gave him everything he had to offer. It was Yong Soo and no one else who gave China love.

Korea supposed that somewhere buried deep inside his brother, there was a part of him that really did love him back, a part of him that enjoyed their time together like this, a part that felt some remorse for doing this to him. There had to be.

He had to believe that there was or his heart would break all over again.

His own traitorous hands undue the clasps to China's changshen and pull the tie from his hair. He runs his fingers through the silky locks and pretends that his is what he really wants, that he is perfectly okay that his precious brother will leave him again a soon as they find release.

He always left him in some way or other.

It hurt, oh how it hurt, beyond words to give into his touch, his lips, his everything, only to have it thrown back into his face and be ignored again once it was all over.

Because each kiss, each thrust, each climatic scream meant something to him, and it meant nothing to China. At least it seemed that way. He had a theory that Yao just didn't know how to act toward him and his obvious affections, no one had ever showed him affection so openly before him. Aniki just didn't know the correct way to deal with him, so he takes the easiest way out and does not deal with him at all.

Somehow no amount of justification ever made the ache in his chest when he awakes alone and naked any less painful.

Korea often thought of it as living half a life. Sure he had his brother in the most primal way, he owned his body, his screams and his cries for more, but that was it.

He didn't have his smile, or his tears, he wasn't there to make him happy, or to see his sleeping face first thing in the morning. He didn't get to cook him dinner, he didn't get to talk to him about trivial things or political matters. There were no silly secrets nor were there any fights over stupid things. There were almost no words at all.

There is nothing, except bodies moving together against a living room wall, one who is fuming over something he couldn't control and one who is dying a little on the inside.

Yong Soo tries to ask his brother why he does this to him, doesn't he know what he's doing to him? Does he know how much of a knife to the heart it was to let this keep happening? Does he think that he's happy just to have his body, does he think that that is all he wants?

Because he'd be wrong.

He opens his mouth to tell him to stop, that his heart can't take this anymore, that it's killing him in the softest way possible, but all that escapes is a high pitch cry and his beautiful, lovely, hurtful, cruel, brother's name as everything is blessedly white in his mind.

In the end he doesn't say a single thing.

They lay against his living room wall for a few silent moments. His brother's head lies on his chest, his hair is loose and it sticks to both of their sweat covered bodies. As much as Korea vows that he would never let this happen again, that this is the last time he will let his brother do this to him, Yong Soo knows it is a lie.

As long as China needed him, even if it was like this, then he'd offer him it all, his bleeding heart, his tearful soul, his willing body, his everything.

In this limbo of a half life, China has given himself to him time and time again, but where it really matters, he gives loving, smiling, willing, hurting, crying Korea, absolutely nothing.

Nothing at all.

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Ending notes; I realize that this is my first official piece for the Hetalia fandom, and it's kinda smutty too. I don't know why but China/Korea has always hit such a soft spot within me. I can't help but feel sad for Yong Soo, he loves his brother so much and Yao blatantly ignores him most of the time. Poor baby.

Thank you so much for reading and all forms of feedback are appreciated. I'd love to know what you think of serious!Korea.

Oh!

There is now a sequel to this! My good friend Marina had mentioned how upset she was that this had such a bitter ending. And ever since I've tinkered with the idea of writing a companion piece to this. Then one day it sort of came to me. Please check _Half_'s sequel, _Empty_!

_Forever and Eternally,_

_-Ra_


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